Marysville – The Forests Beyond the Black Spur

Marysville lies within one of Victoria’s most distinctive mountain landscapes, a country of towering forests, fern-covered gullies, flowing rivers and waterfalls descending through ancient stone.

Although the village rests at the centre of the region, it is the surrounding landscape that has always remained strongest in my memory. Mountains rise behind dense layers of vegetation; mist gathers along the higher ridges, and streams emerge from the shadows of the forest before continuing through the valleys below.

The Black Spur, one of Victoria’s most iconic drives, dominates the approach to Marysville. Beyond Healesville, the open country of the Yarra Valley gradually gives way to the steep, forested slopes of the Great Dividing Range. The road twists through the mountains, enclosed by immense trees and deep gullies.

Mountain ash rise above the roadway in great vertical columns, many disappearing into a canopy far overhead. Native to Victoria and Tasmania, Eucalyptus regnans is the tallest flowering tree in the world and the second-tallest tree species after the Californian coast redwood. Their extraordinary height gives the Black Spur a scale that is difficult to appreciate until standing beneath them.

Below the canopy, tree ferns cover the shaded slopes and reach towards the road. Fallen branches, moss, and dense undergrowth fill the gullies, while occasional openings reveal forested ridges extending into the distance. The changing light adds to the atmosphere. Sunlight can illuminate the pale trunks one moment, while mist or low cloud transforms the same forest into a darker and more mysterious landscape the next.

The Black Spur is memorable not simply because of its winding road, but because of the sense of entering another environment. The forest closes in, leaving the vineyards, farms, and open hills behind. By the time the road emerges towards Marysville, the journey has already revealed the defining character of the region: its height, moisture, seclusion, and immense living forests.

Water is equally important to the surrounding landscape. Rivers and streams descend from the ranges, gathering in narrow gullies before flowing across rock and through the forest. Sometimes their presence is announced only by a distant murmur. Elsewhere, the water tumbles forcefully over ledges and cascades.

At Steavenson Falls, water descends through a steep forested valley, breaking across several rocky levels before continuing into the river below. The waterfall is impressive, but its setting is equally important. Trees, ferns, and wet stone frame the cascade, while the sound of falling water carries through the valley.

Yet the place that has always held the greatest fascination for me is The Beeches.

Here, the character of the forest changes. The tall eucalypts give way to a darker and more enclosed world of Myrtle Beech, moss-covered trunks, tree ferns and cold, flowing streams. The light becomes softer beneath the canopy, while the sounds of the wider landscape gradually disappear.

Entering The Beeches feels like crossing into an older realm, one shaped by water, shadow, and trees that have endured through centuries of change. Their twisted trunks rise from a forest floor layered with fallen leaves, decaying timber and moss. Roots grip the banks of the creek; ferns crowd the narrow spaces between trees, and branches extend across the canopy in irregular patterns.

There is something almost myth-like about the place. The forest seems to possess its own memory, held within ancient trees, dark icy rock pools, and the ceaseless movement of water through the valley. The deeper one walks beneath the canopy, the more the ordinary world seems to recede.

A lyrebird calling from the undergrowth can sound both close and impossibly distant. Its extraordinary mimicry adds to the strangeness of the forest, as though unseen voices were moving between the trees. One has the impression that the landscape is listening, and perhaps even answering.

Small details heighten this sense of wonder. Droplets tremble on fern fronds. Fungi emerge from fallen branches in unexpected shapes and colours. Moss spreads across rocks and tree trunks, softening their surfaces and giving the forest an appearance of immense age. Shafts of light occasionally penetrate the green darkness, illuminating a small section of the forest before fading again.

Nothing appears arranged, yet everything seems connected. Fallen trees nourish fungi and fresh growth. Water shapes the gullies and sustains the ferns. Leaves gather on the forest floor and gradually return to the earth. Life continues through countless relationships, many of them almost invisible to the passing observer.

The Beeches is not grand in the manner of a mountain panorama or a great waterfall. Its power is quieter and more mysterious. It encourages stillness and close observation, drawing us into a living world that feels ancient, self-contained, and only partly knowable.

Beyond the rainforest, the surrounding ranges open into mountain ridges, distant valleys and subalpine woodland. From higher ground, the forests appear to extend across the folds of the landscape, their changing shades revealing the underlying forms of the mountains. Mist moves through the valleys, clouds gather around the summits, and the light changes constantly across the trees.

For me, Marysville has always been inseparable from this wider landscape, from the immense mountain ash forests, the sound of falling water, the mist drifting through the ranges and the hidden green world of The Beeches.

It is a landscape that inspires both humility and wonder. Beneath its towering trees and within its shadowed gullies lies a reminder that the natural world is far older, more intricate, and more mysterious than we can ever fully understand.

View a selection of images of Marysville Landscapes

All text, images and other content © Steven Sklifas. All rights reserved.